


Will Graham in Wonderland

by snapdragonpop007



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: I don't know what else to say, Inspired by Alice in Wonderland, M/M, Murder, Oops, i'm just going on what i remember from the movie and books, its an alice in wonderland au, kudos to you if you can guess whose who, like right after, post wotl, this got kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 21:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17885393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapdragonpop007/pseuds/snapdragonpop007
Summary: He remembered blacking out, and when he opened his eyes again he was still falling. He came crashing to the ground, leaves and twigs snapping and crunching underneath him. He felt no pain, and he sat up, looking around at the forest he had fallen in.Hannibal was nowhere in sight.--or, that Alice in Wonderland AU none asked for





	Will Graham in Wonderland

Will remembered falling.

He remembered falling with Hannibal in his arms, warm blood coating his skin, holding Hannibal close because if they were to die they were to die together. 

He remembered hitting the water, the pain and the jarring of his bones as the sea took them in, not at all kind with her embrace as she caught them. 

He remembered blacking out, and when he opened his eyes again he was still falling. He came crashing to the ground, leaves and twigs snapping and crunching underneath him. He felt no pain, and he sat up, looking around at the forest he had fallen in.

Hannibal was nowhere in sight. 

Will scrambled to his feet. Dirt and leaves fell off his back and shoulders, and he took a moment to brush off a little more as he looked around the clearing. He spun on his heel, pausing at the hulking shadow hidden just in the tree line. 

“Hello?” Will called. 

The shadow twitched, then took a step forward. Will saw the antlers first, then the feathers. 

“You know where he is.” It was not so much a question that Will asked as it was much more of a demand. 

The stag blinked slowly at him. 

“Take me to him.” Will took a step forward. The stag blinked again. “Please?”

The stag snorted, then shook its head. It’s antlers shook the branches, leave falling and burying in the stags feathers. Then in turned around, melting back into the shadows of the forest.

“Wait—!”

Will tried to run after it, but something caught his ankle. He was pulled down, then he was falling again. 

This time when he landed, it was in front of a door. 

Will sat up, looking at the door with a cocked head and twisted lip. It was oak with a brass handle and name plaque. The name on the plaque was chipped off—gouged away. 

Will pushed himself to his feat, laying a hand on the handle. The curve of it fit his palm a little too well. He turned the handle, pausing for a moment at the click of it turning. It was sharp—almost melodic. He pushed the door open, flinging his arm in front of his eyes at the sudden flare of light.

“Oh, no, don’t do that. Shadows are bad for you. Bad, bad, bad.” Someone was prying Will’s arm swag from his eyes and back to his side, pulling him deeper into the room. “Come, come, step into the light. The light is how I can really see you.” 

Will squinted at the light being shone in his eyes. He reached up a hand to smack the arm away, then snatched a thin wrist and squeezed as he held the attached arm still. 

Will plucked the flashlight of the hand, throwing it off to the side.

“How rude of you.” Frederick Chilton took a step back and _tisked_ , effortlessly sliding his hand out of Will’s grip. “What would your dear Hannibal think?”

“You know where he is?” Will let his hand fall back to his side.

“Oh, goodness me, no. I’m not privy to such information.” Chiton circled around a chair and sat, gesturing to the one opposite him. “Take a seat.” 

Will eyed the chair. “No.” 

“I don’t believe I was asking a question.” 

Someone was pushing Will towards the chair. He stumbled over his own feet, falling rather gracelessly into the chair. Will looked up to see who it was, but they were gone by the time he did.

“Now I can ask questions.”

“Chilton—“ Will growled it out as a warning, but Chilton continued on as if he hadn’t heard it.

“What brings you to my office today?”

Will clenched his jaw. 

Chilton hummed. “No, you’re right, bad question. We all know what brought you here. How about—why are you here? I know that what, but not the why.”

Chilton leaned forward.

“No one knows the why.” 

Will dug his fingers into the arm of the chair. 

“I don’t think you even know the why.” Chilton continued. Then he stood, circling back around the chair. “Where did you throw that light—?” 

Will stood, picking up a pen left on the table between the two chairs. He followed after Chilton, taking a hold of his shoulders and yanking him back, digging the pen in his neck and pulling it back.

Blood squirted onto Will’s hand and jaw. 

Chilton turned around. He blinked slowly, mouth opening in shock as he seemed to realize just what Will had done. 

Then he smiled. “So you do know the _why_. How fascinating.” 

Then Chilton stumbled back, falling into his chair. He brought his hand to his neck, clawing at the pen for a moment before he fell limp. 

Will was breathing hard. His chest heaved as he sucked air into his lungs, then he leaned over Chilton and ripped the pen out of his neck. Will shoved it in his pocket, then walked out the door he came in. 

He came face to face with the stag. 

“Where is he?” Will spat it out. 

The stag blinked slowly. Will slammed the door shut, taking a step closer to the stag. Then he paused, tilting his head as a soft melody filled the air. Then he looked behind him.

He was in front of a cottage. 

Will blinked. There was a cottage, a field of flowers in front of him, a garden, and a path that lead off to a little grove where the music was coming from. Will looked at the little path for a moment, then back to the stag. He wasn’t in the least bit surprised to see that it was gone. 

“Son of a bitch.” Will grit his teeth. He took a few steps away from the cottage, then looked back at that little path.

Well, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

Will took off, following the music. It got louder the further he went, but he couldn’t recognize the tune. It was piano, something classical, but it wasn’t from anything that Hannibal had ever shown him. 

“There you are!”

Will jumped.

“Come on, we’ve been waiting for you!” Beverly came skipping down the path, catching Will’s arms and dragging him with her. 

Will stumbled, looking at Beverly with wide eyes. “Bev--” 

“Come on, come on!” Beverly pushed him, then he was in the grove.

There was a table set up with tea and cakes and all those party foods that Hannibal liked to make. A music box sat at the center of the table--that was where the music was coming from--next to a vase of lilies. 

“He can’t sit with us.” Brian spoke up. He was pouring tea for Jimmy.

“Why not?” Beverly still had her arm hooked with Will’s. 

“He’s covered in blood.” Brian replied.

“He looks like he just killed someone.” Jimmy pipped up.

Beverly frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“He’s broken the rules, Beverly.” Jack’s voice silenced the squabbling Jimmy and Brian were partaking in. He was at the head of the table. “No murder.”

“You don’t know he murdered anyone.” Beverly was quick to defend him, and Will suddenly felt like he needed to cry. 

Jack leveled Beverly with a glare. “Check his pocket.”

“Fine.”

Will squawked as Beverly shoved her hand in his pocket. He jumped back, but Beverly had already pulled out the pen. There was a collective gasp from the table, and Beverly looked at the pen for a moment before tossing it over her shoulder.

“That’s evidence!” Jack roared.

“Oh, pish-posh.” Beverly tugged Will over to the table, sitting him down at the other end of the table. “So what if he killed someone? He’s our friend.”

“He’s your friend.” Jimmy snapped. 

Beverly smacked him, then sat next to Will. “Have some tea, Will.”

She pulled over the tea pot and a cup. 

“Oh, no I’m good—“ a cup was shoved in his hand. Tea spilled over the side and onto Will’s hand. It was cold. 

“So,” Jack looked like he was laying across the table from how far he was leaning. “Who did you kill?”

“Jack!” Beverly shrieked. 

“Chilton.” Will set the cup down and reached for a napkin to wipe off the blood and tea on his hands. He left blood behind on the white China. 

“Oh.” Beverly sat next to Will, picking up his cup and taking a sip. “That’s not so bad then is it?”

“Beverly!” Jack screamed. 

“Well, I mean,” Brian butted in. “No one really liked him.” 

“That’s not an excuse!” Jack reached over to smack Brian, knocking over a plate of cake in the process. It fell to the ground with a _schlop_ , leaving behind a smear of frosting on the table cloth. “Murder is murder!”

Beverly frowned. “Will’s murdered before. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“That wasn’t murder! That was self defense!” Jack knocked over another cake platter. 

Jimmy scoffed. “I don’t think nine gun shots is self defense.” 

“Will!” Will flinched back as Jack turned his attention back to him. “Did you or did you not murder Garret Jacob Hobbs?” 

“I—“ Will paused. Everyone was looking at him now—Jack has thrown himself across the table again, Brian and Jimmy were looking at him with identical wide eyes and Beverly was tilting her head and blinking slowly. “I, uh—“

“It’s a simple question Will!” Jack snapped.

Will swallowed. He looked away from Beverley to meet Jack’s eyes. “Yes. I did.”

It felt wonderful to say it. 

There was an immediate uproar. Jack knocked over his chair as he stood, Brian threw a teapot, Jimmy knocked over more cake as he flailed, and Beverly slammed the cup down hard enough that it cracked. Everyone starting shouting, plates and cups were being knocked over, tea was staining the table cloth, and Will wouldn’t be all that surprised if the table went next. 

“Murderer!” Jack was shouting. Will couldn’t hear what anyone else was saying over him, but he wasn’t interested in sticking around to find out. He took a butter knife from the table and took off. 

No one was chasing him, but he could still hear the piano and the calls of _murderer_ even after he left the grove behind and went back into forest. 

Will shook his head, dropping the knife in his pocket as he walked further in. The trees got thicker and the air got colder. Will could see strange shapes move in the shadows and head strange sounds echo off the trees. A breeze shook the branches and leaves fell, crunching underfoot. He quickened his pace, eyes darting through the shadows, trying to see if one could be the stag. 

“Are you there?” Will called softly.

He heard a snort and hooves pound against the forest floor. Will took off in the direction of the sound without a second thought. Branches and thorns scraped against his skin as he pushed through the trees, and he pushed and shoved against them until he left the forest and stumbled into a—

A cove?

“Will!” Alana was smiling at him from where she stood knee deep in the sea. “Hi!”

Will looked around. 

There was a little shack on the shore. Margot was by it, carrying a wicker basket full of oysters. She too gave him a smile, lightly stepping out of the way as Alana came running out of the sea to wrap Will up in a hug. 

She smelled like salt and copper.

“What are you doing here?” Alana asked.

“You know what he’s doing here, darling.” Margot set down her basket, walking over to the two of them. “He’s looking for him.” 

Understanding dawned on Alana, then she suddenly looked sad. “He’s not here, Will.”

Will didn’t think Hannibal would be, but he couldn’t quite keep the stab of disappointment out of his chest. 

All three of them looked up at the thud that came from the shack. 

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” Margot bustled off, her skirts swishing behind her. 

Alana and Will watched as she ripped open the door, yelling something in Italian as she stormed inside. There was a loud thud, a bang and something that sounded like a blunt object hitting a wet and slick object. There’s was more yelling, then Margot was coming back out of the shack, this time carrying a bat with her. 

“Alana, my love—“

“Oh, he’s acting up again, isn’t he?” Alana sighed, taking the bat from Margot. “I need to go take care of this, Will.”

She patted his cheek, kissed Margot, then went off to the shack.

“Who—whose acting up again?” Will asked.

“Mason.” Margot answered, raising her voice the sounds of screaming and thudding. “Come help me find oysters.” 

Margot took a hold of Will’s wrist and drug him to the water. 

The chill of the sea was an icy shock to Will, and he stood just on the shore trying to get used to the cold as Margot plowed on. She plunged her hands in the water, taking a hold of her skirts and dropped a handful of oysters in the makeshift basket. 

“Well, come on then.” Margot beckoned him over. 

Will took another step in, biting his lip as the cold sweeped up his legs. 

The door to the shack burst open, and Mason came running out, Alana fast on his heels. 

“Shan’t! No, no you shan’t!” Mason was chanting it, his voice muffled by the swollen jaw and blood trickling from his nose and mouth. “Shan’t shan’t shan’t!” 

Will watched with wide eyes as Alana took a hold of his shirt collar and yanked him back. He fell into the sand, cackling as he tried to scramble back to his feet. Alana cracked the bat over his head before he could though, and she kept at it until she was beating at a pile of brain matter and skull fragments. 

“Oh, don’t you worry about him,” Margot was suddenly at his side. “He’ll be up again in a few hours.” 

Will blinked at her. 

“I’m sorry about that, Will.” Alana was breathing hard as she walked up to them, dragging the bat in the sand. “But, you know how it goes.”

“I--yeah.” Will nodded.

Alana beamed at him. 

“You should be heading off, Will.” Margot placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a soft smile.

“But--he just got here!” Alana cried.

“Yes, but Will has to keep looking for him.” Margot replied, patting Will’s shoulder as she gave Alana a comforting smile. “He’s terrible at finding oysters anyway.” 

“Oh, alright.” Alana sighed. Then she cupped Will’s jaw in her hands, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Good luck, Will.” 

Then she was pushing him out of the water, past the shack and back into the woods. Will turned around to say a last goodbye, but the trees had swallowed him whole and cut him off from the cove. Will groaned, then turned back around a started trudging along the path again. 

He didn’t get terribly far.

“Who are you?” A voice called from the trees.

“He’s Will Graham, you dolt!” another voice replied.

“Oh! Yes, I see!”

“Hello?” Will called. 

Franklyn came crashing out of the trees, Tobias close behind him. “Are you looking for the king, Mr. Graham?”

“Of course he’s looking for the king!” Tobias smacked Franklyn upside the head. 

“Well you won’t find him here!” Franklyn didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by it. “Come, we’ll take you to Bedelia. She knows where he is.” 

Franklyn took ahold of Will’s sleeve, then dragged him off down the path. Will stumbled at the sudden movement, flailing his arm as he tried to retain his balance. 

“Be careful, you dolt!” Tobias smacked Franklyn again.

“Sorry!” Franklyn let go of Will’s sleeve. “But the king will be so excited to see him again!” 

Will watched the two of them argue like a tennis match. They went back and forth, Tobias hitting Franklyn every now and then and Franklyn continuing on like nothing had ever happened. They kept this up throughout the entire walk, only stopping when they reached a lavish tent sitting in the middle of the woods.

Franklyn pulled back the curtain. “She’s in here, Mr. Graham!” 

Will frowned, but stepped inside.

Bedelia was lounging on a couch, wine glass in hand.

“I see you’ve made it.” she declared, swirling the glass before taking a sip. 

Will looked at her, momentarily overcome with just how much he hated this woman. 

“Where is he?” Will asked. Growled, was more like.

“I don’t know.” she answered. “I’ve never known. He never told me.”

“How can you not--he ran off to Europe with you!” Will snapped it out. “He left me behind and took you! You’ve always known!”

Bedelia blinked slowly. “True. But I never knew where he was, because he was always looking for you.” she took another sip from her glass. “And now here you are, looking for him. Fate has a strange way of working, doesn't she?” 

Will wanted to take her wine glass and smash it. 

“They said you knew where he was.” instead Will shoved his hand in his pocket and curled his fingers around the knife. 

“Yes, well,” she took another sip. “They’re a couple of idiots, aren’t they?” 

Will sucked in a deep breath.

“You, however, know where he is.” another sip. “You know because he’s always made sure you knew.” and another sip. “I don’t know why you came to me when you already know the answer.”

Something in Will snapped.

He surged forward, yanking the glass out of Bedelia’s hand at the same time he pulled the knife out of his pocket. He took a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back and sinking the knife in he throat. He jerked the knife until he cut open the entire throat, hardly even blinking as more blood splashed across his nose and cheeks. 

Will held her until she stopped spasming, then he dropped her. 

Bedelia slumped forward, the entire top half of her body hanging off the couch. 

Will licked his lips, tasting copper. Then he stormed out of the tent. 

“Well?” Franklyn asked.

“Oh dear.” Tobias mumbled. 

Will glared at them, clutching the knife tighter in his hand as he turned his back on them and walked off.

“Have fun, Mr. Graham!” Franklyn called after him. “And watch out for the forest beast! He’s weakened, but I would still watch out!” 

Will ignored anything they said after that. He kept walking, the blood drying and flaking as the forest got colder and thicker. He was too angry to care, and he only took pause when he could see his breath cloud in front of him. 

The branches swayed and the leaves rustled, but other than his own breathing there was no sound. 

Will looked around. He couldn’t see anything in the trees. 

He took a careful step forward. 

Someone called his name, and as Will spun around something came crashing from the trees and tackled him to the ground. Hands clawed at his neck, and Will squirmed and twisted until he kicked whoever was on him off of him. He scrambled to his feet, catching a glimpse of a bloody and bruised Francis scowling at him before he charged Will again. 

Will jumped out of the way, but Francis was quick to spin on his heal and catch Will. He wrapped his hand around Will’s neck and shoved him back to the ground. 

Will clawed at the hand, gasping in air as Francis squeezed tighter and tighter. He managed to work a leg up, kneeing Francis in the chest and throwing him off. 

Will scrambled for the knife he had dropped, picking up a handful of leaves and he snatched it. 

Francis came at him again, and Will twisted around and plunged the knife in Francis’ eye. 

Francis roared and stumbled back. Will chased after him, grabbing his shoulder and wrapping his hand around the handle of the knife. He dove it in deeper, wincing at the squirt of liquid that his his cheek. 

Eventually Will drove it in deep enough, and Francis froze up before falling limp.

Will let him drop to the forest floor, and when he looked up Molly was looking at him. 

“You’re still looking for him, aren't you?” she asked. 

Will blinked and opened his mouth. “Molly, I--” 

“Did you ever love me?”

“I--yes, of course I did--”

“Lies!” Molly spat. “It’s all lies! Everything you ever said was just lies!”

“Molly--”

“You never loved me! It was him! It was always him! You loved him and you never ever stopped loving him!”

Will snapped his mouth shut. He couldn’t deny it. 

“I hope you never find him! I hope you rot in this forest!” She was screaming now, and Will made no move to stop her. “I hope you rot and I hope he finds you like that!” 

“Oh do shut up.” 

And then there was Abigail, digging a knife in Molly’s stomach as the stag stood next to her. 

Abigail dropped Molly, then looked up to Will with a gentle smile. “Hi, Will.”

“Abigail--” Will breathed out her name, then he was rushing forward and pulling her into his arms. He held her tight, blinking back tears and Abigail held him even tighter. They stood like that for a long time, and when Abigail pulled back her smile was just a little sadder.

“Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

She held out her hand. Will took it. 

The stag led them through the forest, looking back every once in a while to make sure they were still there. 

“I’m sorry.” Will said softly. 

Abigail turned to look at him. “There's nothing to be sorry for.” 

“If I had--”

“It’s not your fault, Will.” Abigail cut him off, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “It’s no ones fault.” 

“Abigail--”

“I’m okay with this.” Abigail’s voice was so soft. “Sometimes I wish I was still alive, but I still get to see you this way.”

Will felt something wet run down his cheek. 

“You know that he’s sorry, right? That if he could go back and change it, he would?” Abigail asked, reaching up to bush away Will’s tears. 

“I know,” Will sucked in a wet breath. “God--I know,” 

They had stopped walking. They were just on the edge of the forest, and Will could see a house--he could see Hannibal’s house. 

Abigail pulled him into another hug, holding him tight enough to be painful. “One day--one day we’ll get to do this over again. We’ll get to do it right, and we’ll run off to Italy and be happy and drink wine and look at art and--and--.” 

Will held her tighter, lifting a hand to cup her head. He kissed her temple, and she dug her fingers in the back of his shirt. 

“One day,” he promised. 

Abigail nodded and pulled back.

“I love you, Will.” Will felt his heart clench as Abigail stepped back, placing her hand on the stags flank. “I love you a lot.” 

“I love you a lot, too.” Will whispered it, watching with wet eyes as the stag led Abigail back into the forest. 

Will took a moment to suck in deep breaths and wipe away his tears, then he turned on his heel and walked up the steps of Hannibal’s house and pushed open the door. 

He was greeted immediately by the smell of sweets baking. 

Will smiled at that, heading down the hall to the kitchen.

Hannibal must have known Will had come in, because when Will walked into the kitchen Hannibal was right there, leaning against the counter with a glass on wine in hand.

“Hello, Will.” Hannibal had a gentle smile on his lips, and Will blinked frantically as his eyes started to water. “I’ve been waiting for you.” 

Hannibal set the glass down on the counter and took graceful strides towards Will. His hands slid to Will’s waist, and Will so relieved at finally finding him that he fell into Hannibal’s arms, bringing his own up to wrap around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry I took so long.”

“You got here in the end, my dear.” Hannibal pressed a kiss to Will’s temple. “That’s all that matters.” 

Will took in a shaky breath. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Hannibal gently pulled Will back, dropping his hand to the small of Will’s back and leading him to the bathroom. Will let him, sitting on the edge of the bath while Hannibal wet a washcloth. 

Hannibal was so gentle as he wiped away the blood and dirt, and Will as already so ragged and exhausted that he couldn’t keep the tears back. 

“What’s wrong?” Hannibal asked.

“I just--I’ve been looking everywhere for you--” 

“I’m here now, my love,” Hannibal pulled him into chest, cradling Will’s jaw as he cleaned off the rest of the blood. “And I don’t plan on going anywhere.” 

They stayed like that until Will exhausted his tears. Then they stood, Hannibal pressing another kiss to Will’s temple as he lead him back to the kitchen. He let Will jump up and sit on the counter and handed him a glass of water. Will held it for a moment before downing it, then Hannibal took a glass and replaced it with a plate of cake.

It was chocolate. Just plain chocolate. Will’s favorite. 

Will smiled. Then it fell, and he lowered the plate to his lap.

“Is everything alright, Will?” Hannibal asked.

“This isn't real, is it?” 

Will knew. He knew that it wasn't. 

“No.” 

Will sucked in a shaky breath. He set the plate on the counter, then looked up at Hannibal. He was looking at Will with a gut wrenching sorrow, and Will was quick to look back down.

“I don't want to wake up.” Will whispered.

“Dear Will,” Hannibal gently lifted his chin, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “My dearest Will, I would miss you terribly if you didn't wake.” 

Will felt like crying again. 

“Can I just--can I stay here for a little bit longer?” he whispered it, his voice cracking.

“Of course, my dear.” Hannibal pushed Will’s hair back, tangling his fingers in the curled as he finally kissed Will. “You can stay as long as you need to.”

Will pulled him back, digging his fingers in Hannibal’s shirt as he kissed him like it was the last time he ever would.

 

\--

 

Will slowly blinked open his eyes, throwing up his arm at the harsh light that greeted him, ignoring the sharp stab of pain at the movement. 

“Will!”

Will tilted his head. Hannibal was sitting in a chair next to him, looking at him with wide eyes. 

He must have been out for a while.

“How--” his voice cracked. “How long--”

“About three days.” Hannibal answered. “I was afraid that--” 

Hannibal cut himself off. He looked away. “You took the brunt of the fall.”

Will blinked, letting that sink in. “Hannibal,” 

He held out his hand, ignoring the pain. Hannibal looked back at him, then at his hand. Will held it out a little further, and Hannibal took it, giving it a gentle squeeze. Will laced their fingers together, swallowing around the dryness in his throat.

“Hannibal,” he repeated.

“Yes?” 

Will blinked. “I love you.”

He could hear Hannibal’s breath catch. 

“I love you.” Will repeated. 

Hannibal blinked. Then he squeezed Will’s hand a little harder, moving the chair a little closer to the bed. “And I you, my dear.” 

Will smiled, closing his eyes as he let the drugs pull him back into sleep.

He didn’t let go of Hannibal’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Poetry analysis was not happening, so i wrote 16 pages of this nonsense instead


End file.
